


The Future is Mine to See

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Bottom Jared, Jensen!Seer, M/M, Meant To Be, Norman Soldier Jared, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jen is an oracle who can see the future; Jay, the bodyguard of the Norman warlord who is responsible for the death of Jen's father and the murder of many of Jen's people. Jay takes Jen as 'a spoil of war' and Jen fears the worst. However Jay is a man of dignity and honour and Jen cannot help but fall in love with him. Despite the fact he finds happiness with Jay, Jen is determined to kill the man who murdered his father. Will his act of revenge lose him the man he has come to love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Future is Mine to See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Meant to be [challenge 2014 on LJ](http://spn-meanttobe.livejournal.com/) from the original prompt
> 
>  
> 
> _The daughter of a famous seer and a Byzantine military commander, Phaedra, possesses the gift of prophecy. Brannoc is a Norman warrior who is bodyguard to the barbarian chief responsible for the murder of Phaedra's father. Phaedra has vowed to avenge her father, yet no force on earth can stop her from loving Brannoc--a man she must gentle and tame, and then, either cherish or betray._

When Thessalonica fell Jen was hidden within the temple; he knelt at the altar of the one Catholic God they now worshiped, his head low, and the scent of burning flesh strong and sickening within his nostrils. There were women in the temple with him, the wife and daughter of the Governor and the Commander’s mistress; there were children too, small and ragged, they had fled there in the midst of the battle and now they hid amongst the drapes, tiny fists over their ears, and grubby faces smeared with tears and snot.

Jen did not want to seek security behind the skirts of women, but his father had insisted.

“You are our most precious gift,” the old Commander had said, laying his hand gently upon Jen’s forehead. “Without you we would not have been forewarned and the damage may well have been greater.”

Now on his knees, knees that were sore and worn from begging, Jen wondered how this invasion could be any worse. The Normans had breached the Eastern wall and entered the city. Only two forces had come to the cities aid, and it had not been enough. Despite Jen’s warning nobody had listened, calling his gift _the evil eye_ and stating that it went against God. Jen had pleaded with them to listen but their ears were closed to anything he said to them and now the walls were tumbling down and the dead were piled in the streets, corpse upon corpse, as the Norman’s forged on.

As darkness fell the sound of battle grew quieter until an eerie silence descended upon the city and the temple within its battered walls. Jen heard nothing but the sobs of the children and he rose up from his knees, stiff, his whole body trembling with residue fear. There was a rumbling outside the doors and Jen raised his eyes to see the oak crack and bend. He knew then that the temple was no longer a sanctuary, and he crossed himself quickly while sending a swift prayer to the Gods of his childhood asking for a swift and painless death.  
Wood splintered and the doors flew wide, falling as swiftly as the walls had done. Jen watched in terror and resignation as three men entered. Behind him one of the women screamed and threw herself to the ground already begging for whatever mercy she might gain from the invaders.

Jen also fell to his knees; he drew the white robes he wore around him and hid the solid gold cross he wore about his throat. He closed his eyes then and clasped his hands before him to show he had no weapons. He heard the slam of booted feet on the ground and then he felt his chin gripped in a warm hand, his face pulled up savagely so that he was forced to open his eyes and stare up at his captor.

The man was tall; taller than anyone Jen had ever seen in his sheltered life. The chain mail the man wore barely fit his broad chest and his biceps bulged beneath a thin linen shirt which was ripped and torn, blood smeared across it. The man had a helmet beneath his left arm and a sword tucked into his belt. Long hair hung untidily about his shoulders and it shone red in the flickering light of the temple candles. Cat-like eyes stared down at Jen, slanting and exotic, speckled with colours; green, grey, and blue, Jen could not decide.

“Who are you?” 

Jen reeled with shock as he realised the man spoke his language; it was stiff and guttural but he understood it easily.

“I am Jen,” he replied, slow his tongue thick with fear. “Son of David, Commander of many armies.”

“The _Oracle_.” The man’s head tilted, his expression serious. “I have been sent to find you.”

Jen nodded and rose slowly to his feet; his heart beat painfully fast in his chest, relief making him dizzy when he realised that he was not going to die. Behind him the woman wailed and the cat-eyed man barked out instructions to his companions who came over and dragged her to her feet. Behind the drapes the children were still crying and one of the soldiers pulled back the heavy velvet and grabbed them.

“Do not kill them,” Jen spoke to the cat-eyed man who was obviously the Commander.

“I am not here to massacre women and children.” Beneath his swarthy skin the man was pale, shadows dark beneath his eyes, lines marring the smoothness. “They will come with us to our liege.”

Jen let himself be led from the temple and into the street; the whole city was ablaze, yellow and orange flame lighting their way, bodies piled one upon the other, some being thrown without ceremony into the greedy fire. Jen felt sick and he kept his head low, his stomach roiling with nausea. Beside him the Norman soldiers walked with no shame, and Jen swore if he had a weapon he would kill them, make them feel the pain that burned in his very soul. The children were still wailing and one of the soldiers back handed the nearest boy hissing at him in an unfamiliar tongue.

“Desist!” the cat-eyed man barked out the order. “He is but a whelp and not a threat to your dubious manhood.”

The soldier muttered a muted apology and the cat-eyed man bent his head.

“I apologise,” he said to Jen. “There are men who do nothing but fight and do not even notice who stands before them.”

Jen breathed out through his nose unable to acknowledge the regret. His whole life was collapsing before his eyes and he had seen it happen; he could only hope his father had survived this and that they would be reunited.

The Norman’s had set up their camp within the old town; the Governor’s residence was there and it was clear this was their stronghold. Jen let himself be led through the familiar arch and down the beautifully tiled hall. Norman soldiers lined every corridor standing tall and proud of their slaughter. Jen stared at them as he passed, his chin high. Perchance, he would regret this foolish display of pride but for now he did not care.

A man sat slouched in the Governors official chair; it was one of the town’s treasures, pure red silk with golden gilt edges and carefully carved feet. The man looked wrong, incongruous in his tarnished armour, leathery skin hidden by a salt and pepper beard, heavy stomach hanging over his belt. Jen looked up and saw, in slow dawning horror, that the man was wearing a golden circlet sat askew on his wild black hair. Jen knew that circlet. He knew it to be his father’s and he stopped dead, the realisation hitting him hard. The realisation that his father was gone and the realisation that his father had not survived this battle. 

The man laughed as he saw his soldiers approach; a laugh of pure contentment, of deep amusement. He scratched at his belly and rose unsteadily to his feet. Then he spoke, harsh and low, in his native tongue. Jen’s whole body shook as dark brown eyes pierced him and he wondered what his fate might be.

“He is pleased we have the Oracle,” the cat-eyed man’s voice was soft and for Jen’s ears only. “And he is proud that we have won this battle. He offers you and the women to us, as spoils of war. We can take our choice and do with you as we wish.”

Jen swallowed; his fingers reached inside his robe and clutched at the heavy gold cross that hid there. This man before him, the liege Lord, the Commander had killed his father, of that he had no doubt. In addition, he had massacred innocents and now he held court over those that were left. Jen stared at the man defiantly. His vision swam for a moment and he saw the same man lying dead on the ground, a dagger bloody in his chest. Jen gritted his teeth against the pain of his vision but, deep inside, he rejoiced, praying he was the one to put the dagger there.

When he snapped back to himself he was aware the liege Lord was watching closely. He could hear the women sobbing and he could only imagine their fate.

“I will take you,” beside him the cat-eyed man spoke suddenly. “I would like to have an Oracle in my service, it may be useful.” His lips quirked. “Or amusing.”

Jen felt a stab of something akin to fear and he lowered his eyes.

“Do you not require one of the women?” He asked.

“I have no use for women,” the man’s voice was steady and gave nothing away. “Let the others take them.”

“What of the children?” Jen knew he was risking ire, but the man just laughed wryly.

“There are childless women among us who will be only too glad to take a new son or daughter. You do not need to be concerned.” 

Jen was silent as the cat-eyed man faced his Lord and spoke to him in that odd, unfamiliar tongue. The Lord laughed again and made an obscene gesture, his cunning eyes on Jen’s face. The cat-eyed man did not seem to share the man’s amusement and shook his head, his big hand resting soft on Jen’s shoulder. After a confusing exchange the Lord waved his fingers and the cat-eyed man stepped down. He rubbed his hand through his hair and pulled Jen back.

“You should come with me,” he said. “There are quarters set aside, and you will be safe. There are no plans for the army to leave this city so we will settle here for a while. You may be able to foresee that. I would like to hear what you do _see_ , Oracle, but if you see death for me I do not want to know. Do you understand?”

Jen nodded, his head lowered.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I understand.”

****

The _quarters_ that the cat-eyed man promised amounted to nothing more than a large room in the Governor’s house. As soon as they entered the man drew off his chain mail and tattered shirt, sighing in relief as he tossed them into a corner, and slumped onto the straw which had been heaped upon the floor.

“I will ask one of the men to bring water,” the man said on a yawn. “I am so very tired and the blood of many stains my hands.” He slanted a glance over to where Jen still stood rigid, fingers clenching and unclenching. “We will talk Oracle, but first you need to sit with me.”

Jen lowered himself to the floor; he knelt there still and silent, his mind unable to grasp what had happened to him, to his father, and to his people. The cat-eyed man rubbed at his face and yawned again. Jen tried not to stare at his naked chest, at the blood stained wounds, and the deep grooves of long healed scars.

“I am Jay de Red.” The man gestured Jen come closer. “I guard the body of Geoffrey de Silva, Commander of the Norman armies, and my liege Lord for many summers.” He smiled then, teeth surprisingly white in his sun-browned skin. “I ride into every battle with my Lord and protect him from his enemies. He trusts me implicitly and I am fortunate to have certain privileges.”

Jen opened his mouth then, a million questions rushing through his brain. Jay lifted his hand for a moment.

“You will listen first and then ask questions,” he stated, blandly. “I am tired of noise.”

Jen swallowed and inclined his head; his heart ached and he wondered what his fate might be. He had heard so many tales of these invaders but he had no idea what was true and what was simply myth. 

“I am indentured to Lord Geoffrey; he owns me as much as he owns horses, or land. I serve him completely and he expects my loyalty. In return, I am under his protection and he will not see me wanting. I have a home in my own country and will be given property in this realm. You were gifted to me by him and therefore you will have my protection. I told you the truth of it when I said, I had no use for women.” Those exotic eyes held his for a moment. “I have other wants and needs that I do not see fit to make public knowledge. You are not my slave and I will not force you to do anything you do not wish.” His eyes flickered grey gold in the candlelight. “But you are very beautiful,” he said, wistfully.

Jen’s mouth was dust dry; he had heard of men like this, those men who preferred the touch of another man’s hand but he had never known one. As an Oracle he had been kept pure and although he knew about physical love he had not been party to it.

“I do not understand,” he said, finally, wanting answers to the myriad of questions that were buzzing in his mind like so many annoying insects. “You speak our language and you seem. . . .” He flushed. “Educated, and different from your Lord.”

Jay laughed then; genuine and loud, it bellowed out of his mouth and made Jen jump a little. Once he might have felt joy at such mirth but now he was here, someone’s property, his father dead and his land lost.

“I was a second son and I belonged to the church. My parents left me with the good brothers when I was but seven years old. It was a hard and cold existence but they did give me the benefit of an education. I learned many languages and speak excellent Latin.” 

“If you were in the church how did you come to be a bodyguard?” 

“I grew, Oracle. I grew tall and then taller. The Lord was passing through and he paid the brothers a great amount of gold for my services. The warriors trained me and worked me and I grew taller and wider.” He shrugged. “I was a better fighter than I was monk.”

Jen forced a smile; he was exhausted, misery burning him. 

“Your master has slain my people without mercy and he has taken my father from me.” Tears hot and foolish trickled down his cheeks and only his vision and the fact he may one day wield the bloody dagger kept him from taking his own life rather than living with the Norman who was partially responsible for his father’s death.

“I am sorry.” Jay reached out and took Jen’s hand. It looked small and pale in those broad, callused fingers and Jen felt suddenly fragile. “I was not party to your father’s killing. I often do not agree with what my Lord does, but he is my Lord and I must obey him.”

“I understand.” 

“I do not expect you are telling me the truth; how can you understand? We have sacked your empire, we have invaded,” he said and sighed. “We are all conquering.”

There was a hesitant knock on the door and Jay rose. Jen heard him open the door, heard brief snippets of conversation in that odd tongue that he would never be used to. He heard the door slam then and Jay was back carrying a steaming bowl of rose scented water.

“Now we can bathe,” he said. “And then sleep; I don’t know about you but I am bone weary.” 

Without preamble he undid the belt of his leggings and slid them down his legs. He wore no undergarments and Jen swallowed, averting his eyes as Jay dipped his hands into the bowl and began to daub his body with water. The Norman grunted with satisfaction and Jen peered through half closed lids watching as droplets of water trickled down his broad tanned back, pooling in the dip of his spine. Jay turned and Jen was gifted with acres of skin, taut thighs and long calves, cock nestling in chestnut curls below a flat belly. Jen felt too small for his own skin, his mouth dry, and blood thrumming through his own body. He almost sighed with relief when Jay pulled an old shirt over his nakedness and flopped back down onto the straw with a yawn.

“You may wash,” he grunted. “It will make you feel better.”

“I doubt whether even the cleanest water is going to do that,” Jen couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

“I am sorry.” Jay slumped down further, long legs sprawling. “I do not know what else to say.”

“My father was old,” Jen couldn’t hold his tongue. “He should not even have fought.”

“Age does not stop a prowling lion.” Jay was watching him intently and he felt hot all over, washing his face and hands but leaving his robe on, not wanting the other man to see him naked. “Your father felt able to fight, and so he fought.”

Jen said nothing; he scrubbed at his face to wash away the salt and he imagined how happy he would be when his knife was buried in the vile flesh of his father’s murderer. He felt so tired he thought he would fall where he stood and he swayed on his feet.

“You should come to bed.” Jay patted the straw next to him. “I am sorry it is not more luxurious, but when I am given property I will buy you a better one.”

“I’m fine.” Jen flushed. “I will sleep on the floor.”

“Do not let my earlier declaration worry you, Oracle. I will not touch you, nor will I force you.” Jay patted the straw again. “Sleep on the floor and your bones will long regret it.”

Jen sighed and took his place next to the Norman. He could smell rose petals and sweat, and feel the heat radiating off the other man. Once again his heart dipped and his skin felt tight; beneath his robe his cock twitched and he put his hands over it, shamed by his body’s reaction.

Jay huffed and lay back on the straw; his eyes were already half closed and his body relaxed. Jen realised how easy it would be to find a weapon and kill the bodyguard while he slept and, for a moment, he considered it, wondered if he could do it. He turned and stared down at the man beside him. Jay was falling slowly into sleep, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. In repose like this it was easier to study him and Jen was suddenly struck by how pretty he was, high boned cheeks and soft lips, thick eyelashes and unlined skin. Jen guessed him to be thirty summers or maybe less, not young but not elderly either, a warrior in his prime. Jen sighed and lay back down; he would not survive if he murdered this man; a man who was in the service of the _great_ Norman warrior, a man who could walk freely through the city, and who had his liege Lord’s ear. Perhaps tomorrow he would think of a new plan, perhaps tomorrow he would start to plot his revenge.

****

Jen awoke with a start.

He was covered in sweat and his body was burning, the vision he had seen was ebbing from his mind, seeping away like bad blood making him feel sick, and strange.

There was a weight across his waist, and he froze as he knew it to be Jay’s arm slung around him, fingers tight in his robe. Jen gulped down bile, the images in his brain clearer now.

_He walked into a great hall; it was dark and cavernous, tapers flickering orange illuminating the company. Normans; dark and swarthy, women in fine gowns, jewels around their throats and in their hair. Big dogs lay panting next to the open fire and there was the pungent scent of burning meat, and strong mead. Jen did not recognise this place but he knew why he was there. In his vision he had sought out Jay but the room was too dark for him to see._

_The Lord sat upon a huge throne like chair, laughing, and the grease from food staining his chin. Everyone knelt to him, but Jen and the Lord beckoned Jen over, saying something Jen did not understand._

_The images wavered and again Jen saw the Lord lying dead upon the ground, a simple dagger in his chest. Images played out clearer than in his first vision, he could hear the gasps of shock and total horror, hear the clatter of feet as the guards rushed towards him. In his vision Jen stood firm, he had killed the man who had murdered his father, he was avenged_.

A grunt and Jay’s arm slipped from his waist. Jay’s speckled eyes met his and he flushed, uncomfortable.

“You are awake, Oracle,” Jay sounded amused and Jen nodded his dry mouth unable to form words. “Let us break our fast then,” Jay continued. “I will make sure we are well fed. Then we will take the air, and you can show me more of this new stronghold. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, yes I am.” And to his surprise the statement was true. His stomach grumbled and he realised he had not eaten since yesterday.

“Then rise and we will eat.” Jay’s grin was real, and dimpled. Jen’s stomach dipped again and, this time, it had nothing to do with hunger.

****

“Do you ride?” Jay slipped a shirt of fresh cotton over his head and smoothed it down over the leggings he wore. Jen felt hot and uncomfortable in his robes; he had slept in them and now he felt foolish wishing he had not. He could smell himself and he felt more than a hint of embarrassment. As an Oracle he was kept clean, warm water brought to him every morning and every evening.

“Yes,” he acknowledged, finally. “I ride.”

“Then I will bring us horses and we will ride around this place.” Jay stretched, cracking his spine and flexing his fingers. He cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing as if he could read Jen’s mind. “I will have them bring you some clean clothing,” he added much to Jen’s gratitude and relief. “You must be uncomfortable in those heavy robes.”

“Thank you.”

Jen hated the fact that he had to be grateful to the Norman who had had a hand in sacking his kingdom, but he couldn’t find it within his soul to feel hatred towards Jay. The man was an enigma, and Jen had seen that they would be together for some time. If his vision was to be believed (and it was rare he was ever wrong) he would go back to Normandy with Jay, and he would be allowed into trusted circles.

****

The Norman costume felt odd upon his body. The shirt was made of thick cotton and itchy against his skin, and the leggings were constricting. He slipped the heavy gold cross into the neck of the shirt and he caught Jay staring at him.

“You wear the symbol of the Christian martyr and you were found beneath his altar.”

“Thessalonica has a Christian heart now.” Jen touched the cloth briefly. “We have but one God.”

“Does that not sit uneasily with your gift?” Jay led him on through the maze of corridors until they came out into the stable yard. Jen had never been there before, he had not been considered important enough to visit the Governors private stables. 

“Yes. Once it was deemed precious, but now many see it as the evil eye.”

Jay frowned; he snapped his fingers and a small dark man appeared. He was as swarthy as a moor, and his hair was as black as pitch. Jay barked out orders in his native tongue and the man jumped to attention, nodding and fawning, beckoning them to follow him as he led them to one of the bigger enclosures.

There were over twenty horses all stabled there. They were all fine examples of horse flesh, with their gleaming coats and plaited manes. Jen moved almost without realising it, his hands rubbing gently across the horse’s pelt.

“Here.” Jay led out a sturdy chestnut mare and settled it so that Jen could mount. He cupped his hands and Jen placed his foot into it, the other man lifting him easily as if he were a feather. He sat upon the horse and gripped at its mane with gentle fingers. He had always ridden out of the saddle so this was not alien to him and he tightened his thighs watching as Jay swung his bulk onto the back of a fine black stallion. 

“Come,” Jay urged as he dug his heels into the stallion’s flank. “You must show me this land of yours.”

They trotted out onto the streets and Jen winced as he realised he could still smell burning flesh and rot. The bodies from the previous night were gone, but the blood stained stones stood testament to their existence. Some of the beautiful houses leading down to the port were destroyed; just shells, white stone blown wide. The scent of salt and brine could not mask the lingering stench of death and Jen found himself on the verge of weeping as he saw what his beloved city had become.

“I am sorry,” Jay’s voice was harsh and Jen turned to see him sitting proud in the saddle. “But this is your home still, and I will endeavour to make you happy within it.”

“There are so many dead.” Jen bit his lip till he tasted blood. “Many more than I saw, and more than I imagined.”

“You saw this battle?” Jay sounded shocked, stunned even. He drew the stallion to a halt and leaned forward, pulling Jen’s horse alongside him so that they were face to face. “You saw what would occur here?”

“Yes, and they would not listen. They preferred to pray to their one Christian God. I begged my father not to fight but he was too proud, and now I am an orphan in the _city of the dead_.”

“Jen . . . .”

It was the first time Jay had used his given name and it broke him. He wept like a girl, burying his head into the horse’s neck and sobbing as if his life depended on it. After a moment he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, warm fingers stroking rhythmically across his biceps. He lifted his tear-stained face, shamed; he was a man, perhaps one of the few men of Thessalonica left alive, and yet he was acting like a woman unable to contain his emotions.

“Come.” Jay looked awkward, a smear of pink across his tanned cheeks. “We will ride down to the seafront away from this place of death. After, we will go to the house my Lord has given me as payment for my services. It stands good and whole, and it will be a fine place.”

Jen lowered his head, Jay spoke with gruff and unexpected tenderness. Jen seemed ill at ease with these emotions and he forced his cold mouth into a smile, his hand wiping at his tear-stained skin.

They rode down to the port in silence. The Norman ships were anchored there, black shadows against the blue of the sea and sky. Jay did not look at them keeping his gaze upon Jen, his strong fingers tight around the mane of his horse.

On the beach he dismounted and let the horses stand free upon the gold of the sand. Jen followed suit so that the two of them stood staring at the calm sea, white crested waves and scudding white clouds, a million miles from the wreck that had once been Jen’s home.

“How does one become an Oracle?” Jay’s voice was gruff, low. He spoke Jen’s language well but it was obvious that sometimes he did not have the words. “It is an odd choice of profession.”

“It was not a choice.” Jen narrowed his eyes as the sea got closer. He felt the spray on his face as warm and as salty as his tears had been. “My mother was a famous seer kept virtuous by her religion. My father rode into her temple one day and was smitten with her. She told him she had seen this and that she had kept herself pure for him.” He smiled to himself and he felt a sudden heat along his hip as Jay moved closer. “It was a fabrication of course; she may have foreseen their meeting, but she had kept herself pure for the Gods.”

“You said you were an orphan.” Jay was close now, his big hand resting lightly on Jen’s shoulder. It made him burn, flushed and strange, little bumps of excitement forming sweet upon his skin.

“My mother and father were already old when they met; to have a child was seen as foolish, but she wanted me so much. She died giving birth to me and my father would know no other.” Jen shuddered then, the air damp and cool as the sun dipped behind a cloud.

Jay did not comment further, he whistled shrilly and the horses lifted their heads languidly and trotted towards him.

“We must return now,” he stated. “My Lord has need of my services for he is to address what is left of your army and he needs protection.” He caught Jen’s eye and smiled wryly. “I believe I will stay safe, but if you know better I would wish to know it.”

Jen returned the smile. He had seen the great hall, and he knew that he must return to Normandy with Jay but he had not seen Jay within the hall and that frightened him. It disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

“You will survive today,” he said. “Have no fear.”

“I fear nothing,” Jay growled but his eyes were dark as they rested upon Jen. “But you my Oracle. I fear nothing, but you.”

****

Jen was escorted through familiar streets by two Norman soldiers under Jay’s command. He sat proud on his horse, keeping his eyes fixed firmly forward. He did not want to see the devastation wrought by the invaders, preferring to think of the sea and of Jay’s strange words to him.

Why was the bodyguard afraid of him? He could not comprehend it, and it made no sense. He was but a prisoner with no rights and, in reality, Jay could do with him what he may. Deep inside he knew he had been fortunate to have been taken by Jay. He could have been held as a slave or killed, and while he might have once wished for death he must now celebrate being alive.

The house to which he was led was in the centre of the town. Jen recognised it as belonging to one of Thessalonica’s Generals and it was very luxurious by most standards. Jen swallowed hard knowing that the General who had once lived here was but a young man and about to be wed. He wondered what may have happened to his future bride, whether she was another prisoner or if she had met the same fate as her husband to be.

The soldiers allowed him inside and then stood guard at the doors. Jen realised then just how powerful Jay was, and how close he was to the Lord. He licked his lips as he considered his future. If he were to stay with Jay he too might gain trust, and then his vision would truly come to pass.

He wandered through the corridors of the house, it was beautiful, spacious and bright, the sun filtering in through large windows. He stared out into the garden and considered his future. He knew he would, one day, go to Normandy but until then he had to work hard at gaining Jay’s trust. The bodyguard was a strange mixture of gruff and tender, his lifestyle and his choices clearly colouring the way he viewed things. He was clearly loyal to his master, but it appeared that that loyalty was due more to self-preservation, than any other reason. Whatever Jay’s feelings towards his Lord, he did have his ear and his trust. Jen swallowed, his thoughts turning dark. If he used Jay then he would be no better than the Norman scum who had destroyed his life, but if he allowed his father’s death to go unavenged, he would never forgive himself.

“So you are here.”

Jay’s voice broke into his reverie and he turned to see the bodyguard leaning against the doorframe. He was wearing his chainmail and he looked tired, deep shadows beneath those slanting cat eyes. 

“Yes,” there was little more for him to say. “It is very fine.”

“I have stayed in worse places.” Jay’s mouth quirked in mild amusement. “And there will be a bed tonight instead of straw.” He stretched. “There is also a bath I am told, and my Lord has granted me a cook.” 

“That is good.” Jen tried to smile back but his mouth refused to work for him and Jay’s own grin turned into a frown.

“Our meeting went well,” he stated, blandly. “Your cowardly governor had been in hiding and was only too glad to surrender to us. Thessalonica is now part of Normandy. You will have a new King and we have a new stronghold, one that has a working port and roads to other kingdoms.” He paused for a moment and then moved from the door to stand in the centre of the room, his back to Jen.

“You are not my slave nor will I make you my property. You do not have to stay here with me. As long as you are loyal to Normandy you will come to no harm. You may go about your business as you did before and no one will bother you.”

Jen swallowed. Jay’s declaration was something exceptional, he was being offered his freedom, and his life. It was a gesture he did not expect. His mind whirled for a moment and then he recalled his vision, his future and he shook his head.

“I will do well to stay here with you,” he said, finally. “Under your protection.”

“Jen . . . ,” Jay’s voice broke and he whirled around catching Jen by the shoulders and drawing him in. For a moment Jen was frozen and then Jay’s mouth came crashing down onto his, hard and passionate, teeth catching his lower lip, rough tongue seeking entry.

Jen’s whole body flushed with heat and his legs felt weak. Jay’s arms held him still, his bulk pressed up against Jen. He could feel the cold weight of chain mail and the bite of metal but it didn’t seem to matter as his mind whirled away and rational thought fled, his heart thundering, and his cock suddenly half hard beneath the rough leggings. He sought to get closer, pushing up against Jay’s body and hearing the other man hiss. He was almost lifted from his feet and slammed none too gently against the wall, Jay’s hardness obvious now as it rubbed against his own.

He was pure, untouched and had never been held or kissed this way before. It was too much, too soon, and he gasped as he came back to himself pushing reluctantly against Jay’s chest and shaking his head to clear it.

“Please,” it was a weak plea and he was not sure what he was asking for. “Please. . . .”

Jay let him go and stepped back abruptly; his cheeks were red with heat and his hair was mussed and untidy. His pupils were as dark as night and he was breathing heavily.

“I swore I would not force you,” he panted. “Now you have every reason to want your freedom.”

“No.” Jen’s stomach flipped and churned and his skin still felt tight, his cock still pressing fierce against his leggings. “I do not want my freedom. I spoke truly when I said I wanted your protection.”

“Then you saw a future for us, Oracle?” Jay was smiling again, a genuine smile now, warm and hopeful.

Jen lowered his head and hoped he did not lie.

“Yes,” he answered, softly. “I saw a future for us.”

****

As the days passed Jen learned more about Jay.

He learned that Jay was much esteemed by all who knew him, and not just because he was bodyguard to their Lord. Jay seemed to have garnered respect by being fierce, loyal and fair. He had a kind heart and a gentle humour which seemed at odds with his appearance. Jay was tall, broad, and intimidating. He could command men with just a word, his voice barked out loud and clear across a crowded street. When he stood at his Lord’s side it was easy to see how protected the man was, and Jen believed that the Lord only lived because Jay guarded his life.

He also learned that Jay was very fond of children. He often found the bodyguard carrying them upon his shoulders, galloping them about as if he were a horse. He gave them sweet things when they asked him, comfits and lumps of sugar, smeared syrupy cakes and thick bread smothered in honey. Because of his lifestyle choices Jay would never take a wife, and therefore never sire children and Jen saw it as a shame, a great waste of something special. He wished that he could see some other future for Jay, but instead all he saw was their return to Normandy and Jay’s Lord and master lying dead upon the bloodied floor.

As promised Jay did not force himself upon Jen, he treated him respectfully and as an equal. He let him go freely about the town, did not enquire about his whereabouts, and gave him access to any riches he had appearing to trust him implicitly. Jen did not understand why Jay felt this way about him, but he appreciated it, and did not take it for granted. He grew fonder of Jay as the days passed, and he found himself longing for more intimacy even though it scared him more than he could ever admit.

Thessalonica was slowly being rebuilt and those who had survived the brutality of its sacking were beginning to go about their _normal_ business. Fishermen went back upon the ocean, and farmers back into the fields. As the sun rose higher and the seasons changed, the scent of flowers replaced the stench of fire and death. Jen began to enjoy strolling through the streets again exchanging pleasantries with those who still lived there. It was refreshing to converse in his own tongue and he had no fears of being harmed as the respect that Jay commanded seemed to be awarded to him also.

It was late on a hot summer’s day and he returned to the house to find Jay already there, stripped to the waist, a carafe of fine red wine by his side, sweat smeared across his chest and forehead.

“I did not imagine I would miss the cold and damp of my country.” Jay wiped at his face. “But it is as hot as hell here.” He stared at Jen with his head to one side. “How is it you are not even sweating?”

“I am used to it.” Jen smiled. “Would you like me to pull you a bath?”

“We have servants to do that,” Jay huffed and he took a swig from the carafe, wine dripping down his chin, thick and red like blood.

Jen felt a sudden dizziness overcome him and his vision blurred; it was a long time since he had had a vision in the daylight and his heart thundered with it, blood churning in his veins.

_He was in the Great Hall again, and the Lord was lying dead on the dais, blood pooling from the knife wound in his heart. Jen could hear the shouts of horror, and see the guards running forward. From his position at the foot of the dais he saw a woman screaming, her finger pointing accusingly. Someone grabbed his arms from behind and he turned swiftly still searching for Jay, his mouth open as if to call out, the hands on his arms biting into his flesh, the scent of blood and death harsh in his nostrils._

He opened his eyes to see Jay staring down at him, concern on his face. His big arms were wrapped around Jen’s shoulders and Jen was aware that his head was resting on Jay’s bicep. He almost choked as Jay held the carafe to his lips, but he swallowed down the wine gratefully letting it warm his suddenly chilled bones.

“Did you see something?” Jay’s voice was rough, his cat-like eyes bright.

“Yes,” he managed a whisper, feeble and low and Jay brushed his hand through his hair, fingers strong as they tangled in the loose strands.

“Do you want to tell me what you saw?” Jay’s lips were close to his, breath warm on his forehead. “Was it something that I should be anxious about?”

“No.” Jen hoped his lie would not be obvious. “It was unclear.”

“Indeed.” Jay’s mouth quirked into a humourless grin. “And here was I thinking how beautiful you looked standing there, and thinking how much I wanted to kiss you.” He laughed then. “You did not have to invent such an elaborate ruse to dissuade me.”

“It was not.” Jen wrapped his own arms around Jay’s neck. He was not really sure why he was doing it, suddenly desperate to get closer, his vision and his whirling feelings clashing together in his head. Jay tightened his grip on Jen and tipped his head down to cover Jen’s lips with his own. The kiss deepened and held and Jen clung on for his life, his whole body throbbing, his skin tight around his bones, the kiss awakening long dormant feelings.

“Would that you wanted me,” Jay’s voice was harsh in his ears. “Would that I was not such a gentleman for I would take you here and now. I would rip those clothes from your back and have you.” He was panting now, and Jen could feel the iron of his manhood against his trembling thigh. Jay was bigger than him, stronger and could take what he needed without much resistance. Jen was suddenly overwhelmed by it all and he felt himself go limp in Jay’s grip, mouth lax, thighs parting, an unconscious invitation, Jay groaned then and rose to his feet, Jen still gripped in his arms. There was a moment when Jen believed Jay was going to give into his longings and, in that second, Jen wanted it too. Then Jay let him go slowly and gently, regret colouring his features.

“I think that I am much enamoured with you, my Oracle.” Jay reached out and brushed Jen’s face. “I have never felt as such before, and I want . . . Gods, how I want you, but I will not give into this until it is something you need from me too.” He dropped a kiss on Jen’s forehead. “Until it is something you give to me out of love.”

Jen swallowed; his whole body shook and he felt as if he would explode, his feelings dense and confused. He took a step towards Jay, who lifted his hand and moved backwards.

“No.” He shook his head. “I will not.” And with that he turned and walked from the room leaving Jen alone.

Jen stared into the empty space Jay’s body had left; he appeared to have won the bodyguard’s trust and affection but it would not be enough. To have his vision come true he would have to give more than just his time, and the occasional kiss. He needed to go back to Normandy and he needed access to the Great Hall, he needed all of this to avenge his lost father, and his lost world.

Yet he too was beginning to fall for Jay. It would be hard not to love him, and Jen was not made of stone. If he took that last step and gave himself physically he could never turn back, Jay would be bonded to him as surely as his mother was bonded to his father. And if he killed Jay’s Lord then he would lose not only his freedom and perhaps his life, he would surely lose Jay too.

Was it a risk he would be willing to take?

****

Lord Geoffrey held a feast in the Governors old quarters and every high ranking person in the town was invited. Jen felt nervous about it, afraid for Jay’s safety. Jay would be guarding his Lord and there were many left in the town who would like to see him dead. It was foolish of him; he had seen the future and he knew that both Lord Geoffrey and Jay survived to go back to Normandy but he was concerned his vision had been incorrect, that he had, for once, been mistaken. He did not want to imagine what would happen to him if Jay was killed, but he knew it would not be pleasant.

Jay was dressed in his finest clothing, chain mail across his chest and a knife at his waist. He looked tall and foreboding standing next to the dais where Geoffrey slumped drinking mead, narrowed eyes watching the company like a cat watches mice at play. Jen was allowed to attend the feast as Jay’s guest but he kept a low profile preferring to stand alone watching proceedings from a distance.

He watched the Normans mingle with, what was left of, the Thessalonicans. He compared the invaders swarthy skin and dark hair to the red and blond tones of his people, their honeyed complexions standing out starkly. He wondered why they had been _chosen_ , and gathered that it was possibly because they were a popular port and that they were very close to all the other towns and principalities, a road to world power if you will. He stared up at the Lord, imagining his father dying at the bastards own hands. He knew that to be a fallacy, knowing that his father would have, no doubt, lost his life in battle. Jen felt a pain deep in his heart and swallowed it down. He looked up again to the dais and noted that Jay was looking down at him. The man’s face was impassive but those cat-like eyes were bright and there was a distinct fondness in them, a longing which Jen suddenly wanted to assuage. 

It was late when they returned to the house and Jay looked worn out, almost dead on his feet. It had been a long evening and he had guarded his Lord well. Jen called the servants and had them fill the bath, he watched them fill the water with rose petals and oil and he dipped his fingers in the warm water.

“Come.” He put his hand on the small of Jay’s broad back. “Rest.”

“When did you become so concerned for me?” Jay smiled and smothered a yawn with the back of his hand.

“You have worked hard tonight.” Jen helped him remove the chainmail and the thick tunic beneath. He worked on the band around Jay’s waist and pulled down the leggings. Jay stood up straighter, naked before him, body long, lithe and tanned. Acres of skin to admire. Jen was trembling now, ready, willing and able to give Jay what he had been waiting for and yet terrified to ask for it, afraid of what might happen to him.

“Jen?” Jay’s voice broke on his name. “You - is it possible that you . . . ?”

“Yes.” Jen understood the question and he believed that now was the time, and the place. “I want you.”

“This will not be easy for you,” Jay’s tone was low and soothing. “You have kept yourself pure.”

“For so long and for too long.” His mouth was dry. “But you have been patient for long enough and I am ready.” 

Jay said nothing but those exotic eyes spoke volumes as he pulled Jen into his arms and held him tight for a moment before he released him and took his hand and guided him to where the bath stood; steam rising from its depths, the scent of roses strong in the air.

“Get in,” he said, rough yet gentle and Jen did as he was bid, stripping off his own clothing and climbing into the bath. It felt wonderful, hot water lapping around his feet and calves. His face was pink with both the heat and embarrassment of being naked before Jay for the first time. His cock stirring among the red curls of his groin, and his sac hanging heavy and low. “Beautiful.” Jay ran a hand down his chest and along his navel, pausing a moment to brush his fingers across Jen’s swelling cock. “So beautiful.”

Jay stepped into the bath with him; it was big enough for both of them and the water trickled over the side a little as Jay knelt down pulling Jen with him so that they were kneeling face to face. Jay kissed hard, all lips and tongue and biting teeth. He moved his hands up and down Jen’s back and then rested the palms on the cheeks of Jen’s most private place. 

“I will not hurt you, Oracle,” he hissed. “This would be too painful for you if I were to take you as a man takes a woman.” He tipped back a little and Jen’s breath caught as he saw how big Jay was, his erection rising up against his flat stomach. “I want you to have me,” he hissed. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Jen’s stomach clenched and his cock spurted fluid at the tip. He had never felt like this before, a longing that was so pleasurable it was almost pain. His sac felt tight as if it might burst open, and his legs shook. Jay shook his head, chestnut hair spilling wild over his broad shoulders. He began to kiss Jen again, his hand seeking out Jen’s manhood, rubbing at the tip over and over, fingertips smoothing the skin down and up again, until Jen was almost insensate with desire.

Jay smiled then and pushed Jen gently so that he fell with a splash into the cooling water. Jen groaned as Jay crawled towards him, settling thick thighs on either side of his hips and then sinking down until his ass was rubbing against Jen’s leaking hardness. It was debauchery and intimacy all at once; a sin and yet a pleasure, something he would never have believed could happen to him. A shift of movement and he was slipping inside of Jay, a warm hot channel, so tight, and so close that it felt like he would lose himself there. Jay groaned and put his hands upon Jen’s shoulders, tipping his head back as he moved slowly at first and then with more vigour, the water sloshing onto the tiled floor. Jen raised his own hands and gripped Jay’s thick waist, bucking his hips so that he could feel the other man contract around him. He had never considered doing this, never thought he would indulge in the act of sexual intimacy like this, and certainly never with a man. Then his rational thoughts slid away and there was only physical sensation, a need to reach some sort of zenith, his cock thrusting, his stomach throbbing, his sac so tight, the ache building and building until it burst out of him in thick, hot bursts. Jay moaned, his own cock leaking steadily, he took it in hand and two strokes was enough, his seed spilling onto Jen’s stomach, and his chest. Jay’s head flopped forward onto Jen’s broad chest, both of them panting and breathing hard while the water turned to ice around them, neither of them caring as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

****

Jen realised that their physical intimacy changed everything.

Jay had always been attentive in his own gruff way but now he was almost tender; his eyes alight whenever he laid them upon Jen, his smile dimpled and wide. Jen knew that Jay had fallen hard and it made him warm inside, it made him happy. It also frightened him, and overwhelmed him because he knew that one day he would have to make the choice between affection and revenge, and he did not know which way he wanted to go.

He was already welcome into the Lord’s inner circle but now he was asked to attend strategy meetings and discussions about the future of his own town. Lord Geoffrey began to ask questions about his gift stating blandly that, _‘There is little use in having an Oracle, a seer, if we do not ask him what our future has in store for us.’_

Jen knew what the Lord’s future was, but he had not had another vision since and he could not perform on command. Before the invasion, his visions had sometimes come once or twice a year no more, no less. Lord Geoffrey seemed to believe he could perform on request, and he found himself making up futures, telling the Norman’s that their reign would be long and successful, that they would be a world power that history would be oft repeated. Their achievements would be legendary. The Lord seemed to accept his words, laughing and joking with his men, sending gifts of jewellery, gold and fine art to Jen, things that he had looted from Thessalonica, treasures that had once been owned by men in high places and now, by some strange quirk of fate, belonged to Jen.

Jay did not talk of their relationship for it was against the law of the _new_ God, but Jen felt his own Gods smiled upon them. They no longer slept in separate beds but lay together in the large, soft wooden structure that had been another _gift_ from Lord Geoffrey. It was clean and fresh, the linen scented, pillows light as down beneath their heads. Jen no longer felt embarrassed to be naked in front of Jay but instead he revelled in it, walking through their shared house without a stitch on him, watching Jay’s eyes widen, his eyes go dark. Any modesty Jen had was long lost but he did not mourn for it, this was his life now for better or for worse, and he was as happy as he could be with the threat of his vision hanging over him. He was sure in the knowledge he would have to make his choice, and the fear that he would make the wrong one.

 

It had been six months since Thessalonica fell and Jen had seen many changes, not least in himself. He was not the man who hid within the temple that day, he was a different person now, stronger, more confident, and no longer afraid of the power within him. He was trusted by the men who had invaded his land and he was party to their most private of thoughts, and welcomed into their inner sanctum. He took note of what was said and he told them what they wanted to hear but he was biding his time. There were several occasions where he could have taken a knife to the Lord but he did not, he believed his vision to be true and therefore there must be a reason the Lord died there and not here. There was something else too, something he did not like to admit even to himself. Jay guarded his Lord with loyalty and passion, and Jen did not want to hurt or to betray him. There was something more than the physical between them and it was that something that held him back, that stopped him from avenging his father and putting his mind at peace.

****

Jay was sleeping; his exotic eyes were tightly closed, dark lashes fluttering fitfully against high boned cheeks. Jen watched him, marvelled at how beautiful he was, how different to any other person Jen had ever known. His big broad body was in conflict with his gentle manner, his thick muscles at odds with his finely sculptured face, those cat-like eyes slanting exotically, their myriad of colours reflecting his moods. Jen’s heart flipped within his chest and he licked his lips, stroking a finger down Jay’s cheek and tangling in the curls of his unruly hair. He had never believed he could feel this way and he knew that he wanted more of this, more of these feelings. He wanted to stay here in this house, and in this bed with this man. Jay had become _home_ to him, and Jen no longer resented the men who had taken away one life because, in return, they had given him Jay.

 

“You are watching me.” Jay’s eyes flickered open and he rolled onto his side, speckled hazel eyes glinting with barely concealed amusement.

“Yes,” Jen had no more words, he moved so that he could fit into the curve of Jay’s arms, letting the other man hold him closer, feeling chapped lips moving against the crown of his head, fingers smoothing softly across his spine.

“I have something to tell you,” Jay murmured. “Although perchance you might already know.”

“You are going home,” as soon as he let the words leave his mouth Jen knew it to be true. “To Normandy.”

“Yes!” Jay looked amused and unsure all at once. “My Lord wants us to leave before the leaves turn brown again. He will leave others here to help keep law within the city, but he needs me with him and I would like to go home.”

“Of course.” Jen’s mouth was dry; it was coming to pass, his vision and he waited with baited breath for his own fate.

“I would not take you from your own place of birth,” Jay sounded sad, wistful. “But I would not like to lose you.”

“You will not lose me.” Jen could not keep the fierceness from his voice. “I belong to you.”

“I have told you on countless occasions you do not belong to me.”

“Perhaps not, but you still own me. . . .” He pressed his lips against Jay’s, warm and insistent. “Body and soul.”

“Then you would come with me?” It was hope pure and simple and eyes that spoke of love stared directly into his.

“Yes,” Jen replied, simply. “I would come with you. This was once my home but now, now my home is wherever you are.”

Jay gasped and kissed him again and it was warm, it was passionate and it was everything that Jen had ever wanted or needed.

“You will not regret this,” Jay said, joy in his voice.

“I will not,” he said and with that his fate was sealed.

****

 

He had been aboard a fishing vessel many times, but this was different; the ship was huge, knots of wood rough beneath his bare feet, wind whipping into his face and hair, the scent of salt in his nostrils, the taste of brine thick on his lips. The ship rose high upon the choppy waters and plunged down again, the motion unsettling. He had no nausea though, and he was thankful of that, his sea legs holding firm against anything the Gods of the ocean could throw at him.

Jay prowled about the ship like a restless cat; he was clearly not a natural sailor nor was he a patient one. Small spaces seemed to make him uneasy and he did not like to be confined. At night they were forced to bunk down with the other men, sleeping in rough cloth hammocks which swung back and forth with the waves. Jen missed Jay’s arms around him, missed their intimacy and physical contact. Here among the Normans Jay kept his distance, retreating into his shell, gruff and private, and not the man Jen had come to know.

Jay spent his time trying to teach Jen some of his native tongue. The language was harsh, and difficult but he was beginning to understand some of the words. It was not enough to communicate easily but he was starting to understand what was said to him. The captain would ask him daily what he _saw_. Did he see a straight passage for them? Was the weather going to be fine, or would they have to surmount stormy seas? Jen did not know, he did not control his visions and since he had been intimate, they had come to him less and less. The only thing he still saw clearly was the death of Lord Geoffrey and it was the one vision he could not admit to having.

Sometimes, he would see flashes of things. There was a big stone house built upon mud and moss, children laughing, and a large grey dog that prowled through his dreams. None of this made any sense, so he chose to ignore them, chose to let those visions go without question. These were images of a future that may not even be his.

They docked in Normandy in the early autumn and the world was so dark and so cold it made Jen shudder. The terrain was hilly and muddy, dirt tracks instead of uneven stone roads, rickety huts rather than large white buildings. The sky was a dark grey, no sun seemed to bother the clouds and the air was heavy with rain. 

Horses took them from the docks through a crowded city. It was busy, teeming with people and animals, dogs and cats roaming free. There was some kind of market in the middle of the street, traders selling green apples and thick bread. Women sat in small alcoves, plain cotton dresses covering them from head to toe. There was a roughhewn building with a large stone cross nailed to the door and a man all in black stood next to the entrance watching them as they rode by.

The Lord’s castle was perched on top of a huge hill surrounded by prickly bushes and thick foliage. The castle was built in grey stone with no real riches to be seen. The windows were small and narrow, guards standing still and alert next to the large iron structure which lifted to let them through. Jen clung to his horse’s mane, his thighs aching from clutching so tight. Beside him Jay brought his own horse closer, a big hand landing swiftly on his thigh, a quick sharp squeeze and a smile that was small and just for him.

Jay’s home was in one of the stone houses that encircled the castle. It too was built in the same grey stone with an uneven wooden door and tiny windows. Inside it was small and dark. Two black rugs were thrown haphazardly on the floor and there was a stone table in one corner. To the left there was a kitchen with a huge stove and rushes beneath. A red-headed older woman was hunched over the stove attempting to light it. She turned and squealed loudly when she saw Jay, and dropped into a low curtsy, her eyes on Jen, blue and sharp, appraising.

“Ellen is my cook.” Jay smiled wryly. “And she is definitely in charge here.” He waved his hand and spoke harshly in his own language. “This is Jen, he will be living here with me.”

Jen understood the gist of his words and smiled at the woman who lowered her head and dropped another curtsy. She turned back to the stove and Jen watched fascinated as it suddenly lit up, smoke, black and thick filling the room. Jay shook his head fondly and gestured to Jen.

“We should go outside until the meal is ready . . . she is a good cook but her methods are raw.”

Outside the air was colder and Jen shivered through the thin clothes he wore. The greyness of the sky was turning into a deepened black and he bit his lip, sudden homesickness surging through him as he realised how far he had come.

“I will buy you furs of the finest pelt.” Jay threw a big arm around his shoulder and hugged him close against his body. He was warm and solid and Jen let himself be held, and cherished, his whole being suddenly suffused with heat. “I know this is alien to you, but I swear I will make you happy here.”

“I will be happy as long as you are here.” He raised his chin for a kiss and Jay obliged him, pressing warm lips against his, tongue rough, seeking entry. They stayed like that for the longest of times, Jen so close to Jay he was almost part of him, their bodies fused.

Ellen appeared then and announced in her guttural tongue that the meal was ready. She seemed unsurprised by their closeness, her mouth opening in a somewhat toothless smile. Jay slapped her rump and she squealed and Jen could not hold back his laughter.

They dined in the small living area. The food was strange, but hot and welcome. He did not recognise the meat or the strange green things that were served with it. Jay poured him glass after glass of strong sweet mead and he drank gratefully until his head spun and the world seemed brighter, and warmer.

Jay led him through to the bed chamber. It was large and there was a huge wooden structure in the centre. Furs of different shapes and sizes were slung across it and Jen, still shivering, threw off his clothing and burrowed beneath.  
Jay laughed heartily, and also rid himself of his rough shirt and trews quickly joining Jen beneath the thick furs, rubbing his cold hands across Jen’s warming body.

“Tomorrow I will have Ellen draw us up a fire and some hot water,” he whispered. “I forget that you are delicate and not used to our climate,” his voice dipped lower then. “But there are ways of making you warmer _my_ Oracle.”

Jen gasped as Jay moved slowly down the bed and smoothed his mouth over Jen’s nipples, licking and sucking them until Jen felt he would explode. His cock was hard against his stomach and he almost cried out when Jay enveloped it with eager lips, sucking and licking until Jen could no longer form a coherent thought. Jay seemed intent on his task, moving his mouth up and down Jen’s aching hardness. Jen cried out as his orgasm hit him, took him by surprise. Jay did not seem to mind, swallowing down everything he had to offer. It was an act of worship and Jen recognised it as such.

“Are you warm now?” Jay’s voice was hoarse and his own manhood pressed up sharp against Jen’s thigh. 

Jen nodded, he had lost the ability to form words, lost in lust and debauchery, wanting only to return the favour and take Jay into his mouth. Jay smiled at him then and laid back, legs spread, tip-tilted eyes sparkling with joy and longing both.

“Will you return the favour?” He asked, gently.

Jen’s mouth around his straining hardness was the only answer he needed.

****

Jen wondered if he would ever get used to this alien climate. 

Jay had bought him thick clothing and fine pelts and he wore most of them, body insulated against the sharp winds and almost constant rain. Jay assured him that, in summer, the weather would be warmer, the sun would shine but now, mired in dark days and freezing nights, Jen felt more than a little homesick.

Jay was away more than when they were in Thessalonica; he had duties at the castle that he very rarely spoke about. Meetings no doubt, about future invasions, more lands for the Normans to sack and spoil. From what Jay told Jen when they huddled together at night, the Normans had fingers in a lot of proverbial pies. Jen was rarely invited up to the castle, unable to move as freely here as he had in his own kingdom. He could not speak the language well and he found himself the centre of unwelcome attention. He did not know what Jay told others about him, or how Jay explained their relationship. He knew he was definitely falling in love with Jay, and he was certain that Jay felt the same. It was difficult sometimes to imagine his life without the gruff bodyguard, and he felt as if they had always been together.

And there lay the quandary.

Jen wanted nothing more than to avenge his father. He would think constantly of his vision, of the dagger embedded down deep in the Lord’s black heart. However, Jay’s task was to guard the Lord, to save him from would be murderers. How could Jen kill Lord Geoffrey, while Jay guarded him so fiercely? Why could he not see Jay in his vision? Fear would grip him late into the night and he would lie in bleak darkness with the realisation that he would have to betray the man he cherished.

****

“Lord Geoffrey has requested your presence in the Great Hall.”

Jay ducked his head and pulled the chainmail over his head with a huff. He looked tired; a long night discussing strategies and military manoeuvres had clearly worn him down. Jen’s heart thumped painfully as he moved closer to his lover, helping him shoulder out of the shirt he wore, unfastening his trews, and pulling them down over slender hips. 

“For what reason?” 

His mouth was dry with something that was akin to terror, this was his vision come to life, he was certain of it, and now it loomed near he did not know if he wished it or not.

“He has need of your skills.” Jay smothered a yawn, arm slung casually around his shoulders, wobbling a little as he made his way to their bed. “He has many strategies and plans, and he wishes to know how they will come to pass.” He smiled wryly. “I know you cannot control such visions and that your gifts have receded greatly since we. . . .” He waved his hand across the bed. “But you can always fabricate good answers.”

Jen laughed hoping that the laugh was not hollow. It was true that he had not seen so much since his liaisons with Jay. Before, in his other life, his visions had been frequent, sharp. He had foretold many great happenings, he had seen men die, babies being born, he had even seen Thessalonica’s fall and yet now, now he saw little or nothing.

“Perchance my gifts were linked to my purity.” He rubbed his hands down Jay’s body. “And now I am impure.”

“I hope you do not regret it,” Jay sounded oddly sad. “I have taken you from your home and your family, I would not like to think I had robbed you of something else that was precious.”

“I was revered as a seer until the new God,” Jen chose his words carefully. “Then my _gifts_ were viewed as nothing but a curse; unclean, something that was to be feared. I have long stopped thinking of these things as precious. They are no longer something to embrace.”

“But you still see things?” Jay’s voice was gentle.

“I have had but one vision since we met,” Jen dared not speak it. “But that has not been clear enough for me to know what it means.”

“Then do not fret upon it.” Jay snuggled closer. “If you go to the Great Hall give the Lord some dramatic speech about victory.” He smiled against Jen’s neck. “It is what he wants to hear.”

“Will you be there?” Jen felt fear prickle through him again.

“I am always there,” Jay whispered. “You will be safe there, Jen. I would not let any harm come to you.”

Jen swallowed hard, the words he wished to say lodged like stone within his throat. Tomorrow he would once again wear the robes of a seer. Tomorrow he would conceal his dagger within his robes and plunge it into the heart of the man who had killed his father. It would mean that tomorrow he would no longer lay here in the arms of the man he loved, a man he would surely betray. He knew his own life was in danger, but he did not know what would happen to Jay. He bit his lip to stop the stinging tears from overflowing, pain wrenching through him like fire.

“I know you will do all you can to keep me safe,” he said, finally, and Jay held him closer, their hearts beating in sync together maybe for the very last time.

****

The Great Hall was magnificent; a huge open room with thick wooden beams holding it upright, large horns made out of pure gold held tapers that lit even the darkest of corners, and there were huge tapestries hung from each wall. In the centre of the hall was a table hewn out of solid oak and surrounded by chairs that were covered in red velvet. Dogs lay panting under the table and slept on rushes around the hall’s perimeter. 

The table was laden with food and drinks - bread, meat and steeples of fruit. There were handmade carafes of thick red wine and bottles of mead. Men and women sat at the table, clothed in their best costume. The men wore crimson shirts and thick leggings, the women velvet dresses that were encrusted with glittering jewels. At the very top of the hall there was a raised dais where the Lord sat surrounded by his guards. He was dressed in the finest velvet and silk, gut poking obscenely from his leggings. He had a golden chain around his neck and, to add insult to injury, he wore Jen’s father’s circlet atop of his greasy, straggled hair.

Although there were other guards, Jen’s eyes were fixed on Jay. The bodyguard was dressed in fine clothing and it looked strange on him. The shirt he wore was jade green and shot through with fine gold thread. His chainmail was thicker, and heavier looking than usual, and his leggings were the same colour as his shirt. He caught Jen’s eye as he looked over and dropped his lid in an exaggerated wink. Jen swallowed down pain and guilt as he smiled back, the dagger hidden deep within his robes suddenly sharp against the skin of his hip.

Love was something he never thought he would feel, particularly love for one of the men who had been instrumental in his father’s death, but his heart had led his head and now he was in deep. He tilted his chin and stared into the eyes of the Lord. _I am your death,_ he thought. _I am an avenging angel, and I will see you bleed._.

Lord Geoffrey said something guttural, voice thick, and amused. He beckoned Jen forward with a thick finger, gestured that he should come to the dais. It was his vision come to light and he moved slowly, cautiously towards his destiny, his eyes fixed on the Lord, not even daring to look at the other man, a man he had grown to cherish and now must betray.

His heart was pounding as he knelt for a moment at the foot of the dais. The Lord spoke to him again but it was but a buzzing in his ears. His right hand dipped beneath his robe and gripped the hilt of the knife, it was now or never, he could not turn back time and have this moment again.

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement and one of the guards that stood so still at the Lord’s side lunged forward. It happened swift and abruptly, one moment the Lord was speaking, the next he was lying at the foot of the dais, a dagger plunged deep within his gut. As in his vision guards rushed towards him but they did not even heed him as they grabbed the perpetrator by the shoulders and held him fast. Jen could not comprehend what had happened. All the other guards, including Jay, had not moved, even now stood still and silent. Around him there was a cacophony of noise, women screaming, dogs barking but here on the dais there was naught but an ominous silence.

“The tyrant is dead!” One of the guards spoke firmly, and Jen stared up at him, his mouth dry. The first guard let go of the perpetrator’s shoulders and he moved away. No one moved a muscle and silence fell swift upon the company.

“Oracle,” Jay’s voice was hoarse against his ear. “You saw this, didn’t you? You knew this was to occur.” A big hand snaked beneath his robes and lay upon the dagger there. “You saw this the very day we found you in the temple,” Jay’s voice was but a whisper. “And you believed it would be your dagger that killed the Lord.”

Jen had no words, his throat was clogged, salt stinging his eyes. He wanted to feel something but all he felt was hollow. His vision swam but it had nothing to do with his gift, grief tore at him and he did not know why. 

“Take him back to your home,” the guard spoke slowly so Jen would understand. “You will be safer there until this is over.” He patted Jen awkwardly. “There is no danger to you now seer,” he said. “You may walk these streets in safety knowing that our new Lord will protect you.”

****

Jay was silent. He pulled off his finery and sat, half naked, upon their bed. Jen was still in his robes, disbelief colouring everything he had seen. He wanted to ask Jay so many questions but instead he could only stare at the man he thought he knew and wonder what had happened.

“He was going to kill you.” Jay spoke for the first time, slanting cat-eyes on Jen’s face. Jen shook his head trying to deny but Jay only smiled, wryly.

“He thought your gifts were given by evil not good. He believed you had bewitched me, and he wanted you gone.” Jay looked down at his own hands. “I could not let that happen.” He glanced up. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

“Jay. . . .”

“No, let me finish, please.” Jay beckoned and Jen came to sit beside him on the bed. “You are the one good thing in my life. I never thought I would love, given my preferences, and so to find you has been a miracle. I would not let that fat tyrant spill your blood.”

“You were right,” Jen swallowed. “I did see the Lord’s death.”

“I know,” Jay sighed. “I have always known. I am no seer but I am no fool. I saw how much you wanted vengeance and I saw how much you wanted to come to the Great Hall. It was not hard to put two and two together.”

“You knew he was going to kill me and yet you let me go.” Jen’s throat was hurting again and he felt foolishly betrayed.

“Many of the soldiers and the Generals were tired of our Lord and his rule. He was a bastard who did not stop at just invading a land. Instead he wanted to totally destroy it. He would slaughter innocents just to show how _fearful_ he was. He killed women and children. We were tired of it. We were tired of him. They approached me a few months ago and asked if I would be prepared to join them. They had planned this killing for a long time. You were our distraction, and for that I am sorry.”

Jen swallowed but there was a new hope in his heart. “Please,” he asked. “Do not be sorry.”

Jay smiled at him then and it was a smile that was both tender and gentle. He pulled Jen closer to him on the bed and held him tightly, his lips buried in Jen’s hair.

“Will the new Lord really protect me?” Jen whispered, finally. “He may well feel the same way as the old one did.”

“No, _my_ Oracle,” Jay spoke close to his ear. “He will love you and protect you, and he will ask for your services.”

“You?” he did not have to be psychic to know the truth. “You are the new Lord?”

“Yes, _my_ Jen, they asked me and I said yes.” 

“You are going to rule this land?”

“I am not Lord of all, Jen, just this small part of the Kingdom.”

 

“Then you are responsible for all here.” Jen smiled. “Including me.” 

“I would not take on such a task if you did not want it _my_ Oracle. I would be more than happy to take you back to your home and live in peace with you there.”

“This is your home and they are your people. You belong here, Jay.”

“I have discovered that I belong with you, my love.” Jay took Jen’s chin in his hand and tilted his head ready for a kiss. It was both tender and gentle but there was a fire there that made Jen’s stomach roll with excitement and anticipation.

“I have seen things,” Jen whispered, his hands already busy with his robes, pushing them from his shoulders and letting them fall to the ground. Beneath he was gloriously naked and all he wanted was Jay’s hands upon him.

“Tell me what you have seen.”

“Snippets of our future; I saw a big house, dogs, even children,” he frowned. “My visions are almost never wrong.”

“The old Lord, tyrant that he was, left many children without families to call their own. Some of them were taken as spoils of war and given to those women who could not bear children of their own.” Jay smiled then, teeth white against his tanned skin. “There are still many poor waifs and strays without a home and a Lord needs an heir.” He raised those cat-like eyes to meet Jen’s, trembling hands already reaching out, fingers digging hard into naked flesh. “I would like it if we had children in our home.”

“Our home.” Jen had not imagined staying here in this grey, cold country where he did not understand the language and would always be treated with some restraint. “That has a good sound to it.”

“A great Lord like myself needs a seer,” Jay said as he laughed delightedly, and buried his face into Jen’s neck. “Someone who will tell me the wisdom of my actions.”

“I will always do my best, my Lord.” Jen lay back on the bed and pulled Jay with him, their naked flesh touching, instant pleasure rushing like fire through his veins. 

“You are mine,” Jay growled. “And I will protect you always.”

“I am sorry that I nearly betrayed you.” Jen wanted this out between them, did not want a wound that would fester and destroy their love. “I wanted to see the man who killed my father dead. I did not want to hurt you, but I could see no other path.”

“It is of no matter now.” Jay flipped them over so that he was lying on top of Jen, big hands tight around his wrists, body moving constantly above him seeking naught but pleasure. “You have seen our future and we are together.” He kissed Jen again, hard and passionate, taking away his words.

After, on the verge of sleep, Jen saw the future march before his eyes; he saw Jay with grey at his temples sitting in a garden with a small boy on his knee. He saw two grizzled old wolf hounds playing by a blazing fire, and he saw himself in full robes, hair as white as the snow Jay had once told him about. He smiled as he slipped away into dreams, Jay’s arms tight around him, and Jay’s mouth sharp on his neck.

This future was his to cherish and he awaited it with joy.

End


End file.
